Our favourite Christmas poems

Our edit of the very best Christmas poetry for adults and children.

A time for family, friends, festivities and an undeniable sense of childhood nostalgia, the Christmas season brings with it so many sentiments. We’ve chosen a selection of our favourite Christmas poetry, from funny Christmas poems, to moving festive verses and some Christmas poems for kids, all perfect for reading by the fire over the festive season.

If you're looking for more ways to celebrate all things literary with those you love this festive season, discover our gift guides, including the best gifts for book lovers and the best Christmas books for children.

Looking for more poetry? Discover our edit of the best poetry books, here.

An extract from 'Another Night Before Christmas'

By Carol Ann Duffy

On the night before Christmas, a child in a house,
As the whole family slept, behaved just like a mouse . . .
And crept on soft toes down red-carpeted stairs.
Her hand held the paw of her favourite bear.

The Christmas tree posed with its lights in its arms,
Newly tinselled and baubled with glittering charms;
Flirting in flickers of crimson and green
Against the dull glass of the mute TV screen

The hushed street was in darkness. Snow duveted the cars –
A stray cat had embroidered each roof with its paws.
An owl on an aerial had planets for eyes.
The child at the window stared up at the sky,

Where two aeroplanes sped to the east and the west,
Like a pulled Christmas cracker. The child held her breath
And looked for a sign up above, as the moon
Shone down like a gold chocolate coin on the town.


Christmas Poems

by Carol Ann Duffy

Book cover for Christmas Poems

For the first time, this beautiful collection brings together the illustrated Christmas poems that Carol Ann Duffy created for readers every year during her decade-long tenure as Poet Laureate. 

Duffy's unique style and magical verse are reflected in artwork from Rob Ryan, David De Las Heras, Lara Hawthorne and others. A perfect gift for those in search of festive, much-loved poetry this Christmas.

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A Visit from St. Nicholas

By Clement Clarke Moore

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all thro’ the house,

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of sugar plums danc’d in their heads,

And Mama in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,

Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap —

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow,

Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below;

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny rein-deer,

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and call’d them by name:

“Now! Dasher, now! Dancer, now! Prancer, and Vixen,

“On! Comet, on! Cupid, on! Dunder and Blixem;

“To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!

“Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”

As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;

So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,

With the sleigh full of Toys — and St. Nicholas too:

And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound:

He was dress’d all in fur, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnish’d with ashes and soot;

A bundle of toys was flung on his back,

And he look’d like a peddler just opening his pack:

His eyes — how they twinkled! his dimples how merry,

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry;

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow.

And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.

He had a broad face, and a little round belly

That shook when he laugh’d, like a bowl full of jelly:

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

And I laugh’d when I saw him in spite of myself;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And fill’d all the stockings; then turn’d with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.

He sprung to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew, like the down of a thistle:

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight —

'Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night.'


Christmas Poems

by Gaby Morgan

Book cover for Christmas Poems

This beautiful poem appears in our festive collection Christmas Poems. This anthology of classic and modern Christmas poems, carols and songs, celebrates all the best things about the festive season, from the Nativity to Father Christmas and is beautifully illustrated by Axel Scheffler, illustrator of The Gruffalo.


Love Came Down at Christmas

By Christina Rossetti

Love came down at Christmas, 

   Love all lovely, Love Divine; 

Love was born at Christmas, 

   Star and angels gave the sign. 


Worship we the Godhead, 

   Love Incarnate, Love Divine; 

Worship we our Jesus: 

   But wherewith for sacred sign? 


Love shall be our token, 

   Love be yours and love be mine, 

Love to God and all men, 

   Love for plea and gift and sign


Poems for Christmas

by Gaby Morgan

Book cover for Poems for Christmas

This beautiful Macmillan Collector's Library anthology is guaranteed to get anyone in the festive spirit, and is the perfect Christmas gift for poetry lovers. Poets throughout the ages have been inspired by the festive season, and collected here are Christmas poems by poets from William Shakespeare to Christina Rossetti.  


Help Wanted

By Timothy Tocher

Santa needs new reindeer.
The first bunch has grown old.
Dasher has arthritis;
Comet hates the cold.
Prancer's sick of staring
at Dancer's big behind.
Cupid married Blitzen
and Donder lost his mind.
Dancer's mad at Vixen
for stepping on his toes.
Vixen's being thrown out—
she laughed at Rudolph's nose.
If you are a reindeer
we hope you will apply.
There is just one tricky part:
You must know how to fly.


A Poem for Every Winter Day

by Allie Esiri

Book cover for A Poem for Every Winter Day

This beautiful collection is full of verses that will transport you to sparkling winter scenes, with plenty of poems for celebrating Christmas and New Year's Eve. The poems are selected from Allie Esiri’s bestselling poetry anthologies A Poem for Every Day of the Year and A Poem for Every Night of the Year, including poems by  Mary Oliver, Edgar Allan Poe, Thomas Hardy, E. E. Cummings, Robert Burns, Joseph Coelho, George the Poet, Benjamin Zephaniah and Jackie Kay. 

 

Just Doing My Job

By Clare Bevan

I'm one of Herod's Henchmen.

We don't have much to say,

We just charge through the audience

In a Henchman sort of way.

 

We all wear woolly helmets

To hide our hair and ears,

And Wellingtons sprayed silver

To match our tinfoil spears.

 

Our swords are made of cardboard

So blood will not be spilled

If we trip and stab a parent

When the hall's completely filled.

 

We don't look very scary,

We're mostly small and shy,

And some of us wear glasses,

But we give the thing a try.

 

We whisper Henchman noises

While Herod hunts for strangers,

And then we all charge out again

Like nervous Power Rangers.

 

Yet when the play is over

And Miss is out of breath

We'll charge like Henchmen through the hall

And scare our mums to death.


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The First Christmas

By Marian Swinger

It never snows at Christmas in that dry and dusty land.

Instead of freezing blizzards, there are palms and drifting sands,

and years ago a stable and a most unusual star

and three wise men who followed it, by camel, not by car,

while, sleepy on the quiet hills, a shepherd gave a cry.

He'd seen a crowd of angels in the silent starlit sky.

In the stable, ox and ass stood very still and calm

and gazed upon the baby, safe and snug in Mary's arms.

And Joseph, lost in shadows, face lit by an oil lamp's glow

stood wondering, that first Christmas Day, two thousand years ago

 

Read Me: A Poem for Every Day of the Year

by Gaby Morgan

Book cover for Read Me: A Poem for Every Day of the Year

This bestselling poetry anthology, which has sold over a quarter of a million copies, is perfect for sharing with the entire family. It contains a poem for every day of the year from the very best modern and classic poets, so you're sure to find familiar favourites along with exciting new discoveries.


 

King John's Christmas

By A. A. Milne 

King John was not a good man —

   He had his little ways.

And sometimes no one spoke to him

   For days and days and days.

And men who came across him,

   When walking in the town,

Gave him a supercilious stare,

Or passed with noses in the air —

And bad King John stood dumbly there,

   Blushing beneath his crown.

 

King John was not a good man,

   And no good friends had he.

He stayed in every afternoon…

   But no one came to tea.

And, round about December,

   The cards upon his shelf

Which wished him lots of Christmas cheer,

And fortune in the coming year,

Were never from his near and dear,

   But only from himself.

 

King John was not a good man,

   Yet had his hopes and fears.

They’d given him no present now

   For years and years and years.

But every year at Christmas,

   While minstrels stood about,

Collecting tribute from the young

For all the songs they might have sung,

He stole away upstairs and hung

   A hopeful stocking out.

 

King John was not a good man,

   He lived his live aloof;

Alone he thought a message out

   While climbing up the roof.

He wrote it down and propped it

   Against the chimney stack:

'TO ALL AND SUNDRY – NEAR AND FAR –

F. Christmas in particular.'

And signed it not 'Johannes R.'

   But very humbly, 'Jack.'

 

'I want some crackers,

   And I want some candy;

I think a box of chocolates

   Would come in handy;

I don’t mind oranges,

   I do like nuts!

And I SHOULD like a pocket-knife

That really cuts.

And, oh! Father Christmas, if you love me at all,

   Bring me a big, red, india-rubber ball!'

 

King John was not a good man —

   He wrote this message out,

And gat him to this room again,

   Descending by the spout.

And all that night he lay there,

   A prey to hopes and fears.

   'I think that’s him a-coming now!'

   (Anxiety bedewed his brow.)

   'He’ll bring one present, anyhow —

   The first I had for years.'

 

'Forget about the crackers,

   And forget the candy;

I’m sure a box of chocolates

   Would never come in handy;

I don’t like oranges,

   I don’t want nuts,

And I HAVE got a pocket-knife

   That almost cuts.

But, oh! Father Christmas, if you love me at all,

Bring me a big, red, india-rubber ball!'

 

King John was not a good man,

   Next morning when the sun

Rose up to tell a waiting world

   That Christmas had begun,

And people seized their stockings,

   And opened them with glee,

And crackers, toys and games appeared,

And lips with sticky sweets were smeared,

King John said grimly: 'As I feared,

   Nothing again for me!'

 

'I did want crackers,

   And I did want candy;

I know a box of chocolates

   Would come in handy;

I do love oranges,

   I did want nuts!

I haven't got a pocket-knife —

   Not one that cuts.

And, oh! if Father Christmas, had loved me at all,

He would have brought a big, red,

india-rubber ball!'

 

King John stood by the window,

   And frowned to see below

The happy bands of boys and girls

   All playing in the snow.

A while he stood there watching,

   And envying them all …

When through the window big and red

There hurtled by his royal head,

And bounced and fell upon the bed,

   An india-rubber ball!

 

AND, OH, FATHER CHRISTMAS,

MY BLESSINGS ON YOU FALL

FOR BRINGING HIM

A BIG, RED,

INDIA-RUBBER

BALL!


A Poem for Every Night of the Year

by Allie Esiri

Book cover for A Poem for Every Night of the Year

Perfect for reading aloud and sharing with those you love,  this is a wonderful collection of 366 poems compiled by Allie Esiri, one for every night of the year. It features a full spectrum of poetry from familiar favourites to exciting contemporary voices. Alfred, Lord Tennyson, W. B. Yeats, A. A. Milne and Christina Rossetti sit alongside Roger McGough, Carol Ann Duffy and Benjamin Zephaniah.


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Talking Turkeys

By Benjamin Zephaniah

Be nice to yu turkeys dis christmas
Cos’ turkeys just wanna hav fun
Turkeys are cool, turkeys are wicked
An every turkey has a Mum.
Be nice to yu turkeys dis christmas,
Don’t eat it, keep it alive,
It could be yu mate, an not on yu plate
Say, Yo! Turkey I’m on your side. 

I got lots of friends who are turkeys
An all of dem fear christmas time,
Dey wanna enjoy it, dey say humans destroyed it
An humans are out of dere mind,
Yeah, I got lots of friends who are turkeys
Dey all hav a right to a life,
Not to be caged up an genetically made up
By any farmer an his wife. 

Turkeys just wanna play reggae
Turkeys just wanna hip-hop
Can yu imagine a nice young turkey saying,
‘I cannot wait for de chop’,
Turkeys like getting presents, dey wanna watch
   christmas TV,
Turkeys hav brains an turkeys feel pain
In many ways like yu an me. 

I once knew a turkey called
Turkey
He said ‘Benji explain to me please,
Who put de turkey in christmas
An what happens to christmas trees?’,
I said ‘I am not too sure turkey
But it’s nothing to do wid Christ Mass
Humans get greedy an waste more dan need be
An business men mek loadsa cash’.

Be nice to yu turkey dis christmas
Invite dem indoors fe sum greens
Let dem eat cake an let dem partake
In a plate of organic grown beans,
Be nice to yu turkey dis christmas
An spare dem de cut of de knife,
Join Turkeys United an dey’ll be delighted
An yu will mek new friends ‘FOR LIFE’. 

 

Appears in A Poem for Every Night of the Year.

 

The Crying Need for Snow

By Clive James

It’s cold without the softness of a fall
Of snow to give these scenes a common bond
And though, besotted on a viewless rime,
The ducks can do their standing-on-the-pond
Routine that leaves you howling, all in all
We need some snow to hush the whole thing up.

The ducks can do their flatfoot-waterfool
Mad act that leaves you helpless, but in fine
We need their footprints in a higher field
Made pure powder, need their wig-wag line
Of little kites pressed in around the pool:
An afternoon of snow should cover that.

Some crystalline precipitate should throw
Its multifarious weightlessness around
For half a day and paint the whole place out,
Bring back a soft regime to bitter ground:
An instant plebiscite would vote for snow
So overwhelmingly if we could call it now.

An afternoon of snow should cover that
Milk-bottle neck bolt upright in the slime
Fast frozen at the pond’s edge, brutal there:
We need to see junk muffled, whitewashed grime,
Lean brittle ice grown comfortably fat,
A world prepared to take our footprints in.

A world prepared to take our footprints in
Needs painting out, needs be a finer field:
So overwhelmingly, if we could call it now,
The fluffy stuff would prime it: it would yield
To lightest step, be webbed and toed and heeled,
Pushed flat, smoothed off, heaped high, pinched anyhow,
Yet be inviolable. Put like that,
Gently, the cold makes sense. Snow links things up.

 

Collected Poems

by Clive James

Book cover for Collected Poems

In this book, Clive James makes his own rich selection from over fifty years' work in verse: from his early satires to these heart-stopping valedictory poems, he proves himself to be as well suited to the intense demands of the tight lyric as he is to the longer mock-epic. Collected Poems displays James's fluency and apparently effortless style, his technical skill and thematic scope, his lightly worn erudition and his emotional power; it undoubtedly cements his reputation as one of the most versatile and accomplished writers.


little tree

By e.e  cummings

little tree 

little silent Christmas tree 

you are so little 

you are more like a flower 

 

who found you in the green forest 

and were you very sorry to come away? 

see          i will comfort you 

because you smell so sweetly 

 

i will kiss your cool bark 

and hug you safe and tight 

just as your mother would, 

only don't be afraid 

 

look          the spangles 

that sleep all the year in a dark box 

dreaming of being taken out and allowed to shine, 

the balls the chains red and gold the fluffy threads, 

 

put up your little arms 

and i'll give them all to you to hold 

every finger shall have its ring 

and there won't be a single place dark or unhappy 

 

then when you're quite dressed 

you'll stand in the window for everyone to see 

and how they'll stare! 

oh but you'll be very proud 

 

and my little sister and i will take hands 

and looking up at our beautiful tree 

we'll dance and sing 

'Noel Noel'

 

Read Me 2: A Poem For Every Day of the Year

by Gaby Morgan

Book cover for Read Me 2: A Poem For Every Day of the Year

A second poetic calendar chosen by Gaby Morgan, Read Me 2: A Poem For Every Day of the Year, is a chance to celebrate poetry every day with works from both literary greats and poetry's unmissable new voices.


In the Bleak Midwinter

By Christina Rossetti

In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,

Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;

Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,

In the bleak midwinter, long ago.

 

Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him, nor earth sustain;

Heaven and earth shall flee away when He comes to reign.

In the bleak midwinter a stable place sufficed

The Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.

 

Enough for Him, whom cherubim, worship night and day,

Breastful of milk, and a mangerful of hay;

Enough for Him, whom angels fall before,

The ox and ass and camel which adore.

 

Angels and archangels may have gathered there,

Cherubim and seraphim thronged the air;

But His mother only, in her maiden bliss,

Worshipped the beloved with a kiss.

 

What can I give Him, poor as I am?

If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;

If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part;

Yet what I can I give Him: give my heart.

Appears in A Poem for Every Night of the Year.

 

The Twelve Days of Christmas

By Anon.

On the first day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the second day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Two turtle doves,
And a partridge in a pear tree.

On the third day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Three French hens,
Two turtle doves,
And a partridge in a pear tree.

On the fourth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle doves,
And a partridge in a pear tree. 

On the fifth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Five golden rings,
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle doves,
And a partridge in a pear tree.

On the sixth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings,
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle doves,
And a partridge in a pear tree.

On the seventh day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Seven swans a-swimming,
Six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings,
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle doves,
And a partridge in a pear tree. 

On the eighth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Eight maids a-milking,
Seven swans a-swimming,
Six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings,
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle doves,
And a partridge in a pear tree. 

On the ninth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Nine ladies dancing,
Eight maids a-milking,
Seven swans a-swimming,
Six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings,
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle doves,
And a partridge in a pear tree. 

On the tenth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Ten lords a-leaping,
Nine ladies dancing,
Eight maids a-milking,
Seven swans a-swimming,
Six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings,
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle doves,
And a partridge in a pear tree.

On the eleventh day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Eleven pipers piping,
Ten lords a-leaping,
Nine ladies dancing,
Eight maids a-milking,
Seven swans a-swimming,
Six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings,
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle doves,
And a partridge in a pear tree.

On the twelfth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Twelve drummers drumming,
Eleven pipers piping,
Ten lords a-leaping,
Nine ladies dancing,
Eight maids a-milking,
Seven swans a-swimming,
Six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings,
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle doves,
And a partridge in a pear tree!

Appears in A Poem for Every Night of the Year.

 

On the thirteenth day of Christmas my true love phoned me up . . . 

By Dave Calder  

Well, I suppose I should be grateful, you’ve obviously gone
to a lot of trouble and expense – or maybe off your head.
Yes, I did like the birds – the small ones anyway were fun
if rather messy, but now the hens have roosted on my bed
and the rest are nested on the wardrobe. It’s hard to sleep
with all that cooing, let alone the cackling of the geese
whose eggs are everywhere, but mostly in a broken smelly heap
on the sofa. No, why should I mind? I can’t get any peace
anywhere – the lounge is full of drummers thumping tom-toms
and sprawling lords crashed out from manic leaping. The
kitchen is crammed with cows and milkmaids and smells of a million stink-bombs
and enough sour milk to last a year. The pipers? I’d forgotten them –
they were no trouble, I paid them and they went. But I can’t get rid
of these young ladies. They won’t stop dancing or turn the music down
and they’re always in the bathroom, squealing as they skid
across the flooded floor. No, I don’t need a plumber round,
it’s just the swans – where else can they swim? Poor things,
I think they’re going mad, like me. When I went to wash my
hands one ate the soap, another swallowed the gold rings.
And the pear tree died. Too dry. So thanks for nothing,
   love. Goodbye.

 

Appears in Read Me 2: A Poem For Every Day of the Year.


If you love Christmas poems, we think you'll also love:

And So This is Christmas

by Brian Bilston

Book cover for And So This is Christmas

With his signature wit, Brian Bilston returns with And So This is Christmas, fifty-one poems in celebration of the festive season: from bizarre family traditions to the office Christmas party; from voting day for turkeys to the impossible art of gift-giving. Wrap this up as a stocking-filler, pop it under the tree or read it aloud at Christmas dinner to get the whole table laughing. 

Christmas Eve at The Moon Under Water

by Carol Ann Duffy

Book cover for Christmas Eve at The Moon Under Water

The enchanting festive poem from Carol Ann Duffy, former Poet Laureate of the United Kingdom, and adorned with sumptuous illustrations by artist Margaux Carpentier, Christmas Eve at The Moon Under Water is the perfect festive gift for the poetry lover in your life. As all the old rivalries of the natural world are suspended for one miraculous night, a man stands shoulder to shoulder with an animal, and predator and prey add warble and wail to the Yuletide chorus.

We Wish You A Merry Christmas and Other Festive Poems

by Chris Riddell

Book cover for We Wish You A Merry Christmas and Other Festive Poems

Christmas has long been a source of inspiration and a moment of reflection for poets, from traditional verse to modern works. This is the perfect collection for readers young and old, as gorgeous illustrations throughout bring new life to classics, including The Night Before Christmas, The Twelve Days of Christmas, Deck the Halls, We Wish You a Merry Christmas and We Three Kings.

A Poem for Every Day of the Year

by Allie Esiri

Book cover for A Poem for Every Day of the Year

This beloved and bestselling collection compiled by Allie Esiri includes 366 magnificent poems, one for each day of the year. Reflecting the changing seasons and linking to events on key dates – funny for April Fool's Day, festive for Christmas – these poems are thoughtful, inspiring, humbling, informative, quiet, loud, small, epic, peaceful, energetic, upbeat, motivating, and empowering! This warm and soulful book is the perfect gift that will last the whole year, with a little bit of magic to read every day.

Poems to Save the World With

by Chris Riddell

Book cover for Poems to Save the World With

This beautiful gift book anthology contains classic and modern poems to galvanize, uplift and inspire you which are brought to life with exquisite, intricate artwork. Chosen and illustrated by Chris Riddell, Poems to Save the World With will ignite your inner activist and provide comfort and inspiration. These poems speak of hope, happiness, rebellio; written by the likes of Neil Gaiman, Nikita Gill, Maggie Smith, Brian Bilston, Raymond Antrobus, Fiona Benson, Lewis Carroll and many more.